


Lay Back, Watch it Burn and Rust (we tried the world-- Good God! it wasn't for us)

by McCully



Category: Twelfth Night - Shakespeare
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 17:06:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20970038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McCully/pseuds/McCully
Summary: College AU loosely based on Twelfth Night. (based on OG play and a local historical production I watched, like, 7 times last summer)





	Lay Back, Watch it Burn and Rust (we tried the world-- Good God! it wasn't for us)

**Author's Note:**

> I've got no excuses, just a love for this play. I've written fanfiction twice ever, so please be nice! Also, Malvolio's subplot mostly isn't included, despite the fact that economic and class disparity is a huge part of this play (and a really valuable message)-- but to be totally honest, it makes me sad and creeped out, and this is my fanfic, so. 
> 
> My intention was to write Cesario/Viola as genderfluid-- I did research, but as a cisgender person, I may have made mistakes. Please feel free to correct me if I did not do them justice, I am always willing to learn and re-educate myself when necessary.

Today I will wear my white buttondown…  
I’m tired of being alone, oh  
I think I’m finally worn….

“If music be the food of love, play on;  
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,  
The appetite may sicken, and so die.  
That strain again! it had a dying fall:  
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound,  
That breathes upon a bank of violets,  
Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more:  
'Tis not so sweet now as it was before,”  
Orsino paused for dramatic effect.  
Curio stopped, his hand on the dial to the radio. Orsino loved that radio; it was vintage, timeless, romantic, and most importantly, completely useless and overdramatic.

“Hey man. Are you alright?" He began, intentionally casual. "Do you need to talk? You’ve been in an especially weird mood since that poetry slam last Wednesday,” he continued, pulling the plug on the radio with rather more enthusiasm than Orsino would’ve preferred. The Duke sighed, putting his feet onto his apartment’s makeshift footrest (he’d sawed the legs off of a bedstand, and put an embroidered cushion on top). Orsino was enjoying another fit of passion and had been on a huge romantic kick. While this wasn’t too unusual for him, the endless Mitski was a bit depressing to listen to all day through the walls of the dorm.

“I’m not alright. I don’t want to be alright. The whole point of love is to just-- let it totally take over your life, to let yourself be moved by it! I’m following what gives me passion… Olivia,” he sighed, leaning back into the couch and tipping back his head. His pink heart-shaped glasses slipped down his nose, and Curio stifled a laugh.

“Look. You see her once a week at that cafe, and you’ve talked to her-- what, once? And she said her brother AND dad died within a year of each other. That’s a lot,” Curio told him wisely, digging his spoon into his melting McFlurry. “Maybe just give it a rest,” he mumbled around a mouthful of ice cream and spoon.

Orsino leveled him a glare. “I’m not-- pursuing her, and I’d stop the second she said something but-- look. Can I just take some time and be dramatic? Is that a crime?” Raising his eyebrows, challenging Curio to say something, he turned the radio back on, playing a ballad full blast. Curio discreetly took out his phone and ordered noise-canceling headphones.

//

“Hey, Mr. Curran? Can you come confirm something for me?”

“Of course, Viola. What is it? Have you heard back from anywhere you applied to yet? I’d be happy to write you another letter of recommendation.”

“Yeah, about that. Is this a letter accepting me into Illyria College?” She stuck out the letter to the wizened math teacher, allowing him to hold it at arm’s length as he read.

“Why, it looks like it is! Nicely done, Viola-- that’s a very prestigious school, and I know you’ll succeed! I’m quite proud of you.” Viola offered him a terse smile as she took back the letter.

“I appreciate that, I really do, but isn’t Illyria an all-male school?” Her math teacher paused a beat. Viola could feel a tight headache blooming behind her eyes, and she ground the heel of her hand into the socket of her eye. She’d been applying to schools everywhere she could, working her ass off in school, and of course the best offer she got was one she couldn’t accept.

“Ah. Yes. I see. Well, clearly there’s been some mistake, but perhaps another school would suit you better…?”

“They’re offering me full ride. And it’s the best engineering school this side of the Mississippi.”

“.....well, let’s look at your options.”

//

Toby tightened the slackline around Andrew’s knees, tying him more securely to his boards. The wheels slipped a little as Andrew skittered further up the roof of the house, dislodging shingles as he went. Toby heard the sound of a glass bottle roll down wooden shingles and shatter below on the rim of the pool.

“Are you-” hic “-sure about this, bro?” Andrew asked, his gaze delirious with alcohol and terror. Toby nodded solemnly as he hit play on the boombox, starting We Are the Champions at ear-drum-shattering decibels.

“Send it, Andy,” Toby declared, saluting and standing up as straight a drunk college student on the roof of a two-story house can. Andrew Aguecheek, nodding once and looking resolved, began to align his body so that the skateboard he was tied to would (hopefully) land in the pool and not on the unforgiving concrete. Saying his prayers, incorrectly but with great gusto, he pushed off to launch, but was stopped by a voice floating up from the courtyard below.

“What the everliving FUCK are you doing?” shrieked Maria, waving her arms. “Do you have a death wish?”

“He’ll be fine! We’re gonna be legends!” Toby yelled back, shouting over the music. His bro tank slipped off his shoulder and he struggled to realign it.

“I’m not talking about that! I’m talking about you blasting music on the roof at 3 AM when your cousin has a midterm tomorrow morning, and also she’s letting you live in her house rent-free! AND you’ve got Andrew with you, and you know she hates when you bring people over without asking--” a small noise of protest came from Andrew at that, who looked a little hurt. “She’s either gonna skin you or she’s gonna kick you out, and either way, I’m not stopping her!” Maria shouted, stomping back into the house. Toby sulkily shut off the radio, watching Andrew writhe around trying to untie himself.

“Man, Olivia has been such a fuckin’ downer since her brother died. It’s like, having a good time is what’s important here, y’know? God.” Toby muttered, slouching over to Andrew to untie him from the skateboard. As his friend wiggled free, he let the board roll off the roof and listened to the satisfying splash it made into the pool below. Picking up a mostly full bottle of beer, he took a long draught and sat on the edge of the roof, swinging his feet morosely.

“Bro, it’s okay! It’s okay. Don't be down, dude. We could go clubbing if you want?” Andrew exclaimed, shaking his companion’s shoulder. Toby shot him an obvious glance.

“Are you paying cover, Andy?” Toby asked. Andrew looked hesitant. “I don't know, maybe I'm too bummed to go clubbing…” Toby wheedled.

“Of course I'll pay cover, dude. We’re bros,” Andrew finally relented.

“Dope.” Toby grinned and stood unsteadily. “Let’s fucking go, dude!!”

//

Cesario tugged on his jacket, hunkering down into the comfort of his worn denim jacket. The binding around his chest felt uncomfortable and he struggled to catch his breath as he lugged another box up the stairs, cursing his weakness for paper books.

“A-hah! Freshmen. Hey, do you need a hand there?” rang a steady voice from down the hallway. The stairs were gray and covered with stains of mysterious origin, and the hallway looked no better, so Cesario tried to keep his eyes up and not think about everything college-aged men could stain a living space with. Cesario turned and found his breath catching again as a well-built man, wearing only a pair of loose linen pants and a pink floral nightgown, bounded down the hallway.

“I’ve got it covered! Do you need a hand?” he bit out in a panic, stumbling a little. He cursed himself, feeling his face heat, and thanked every constellation that his dark skin meant his new neighbor wouldn’t see him blushing. Cesario glanced up again and immediately regretted it-- the man who had offered to help was grinning at him with a bemused expression, which made him all the more attractive, and his entire smooth, pale torso was visible. Cesario noted distantly that the guy had his auburn hair tied back in a tiny ponytail at the nape of his neck, which Cesario did not find attractive at all, no thank you, because he did not watch Lord of the Rings hundreds of times during his adolescence and did not have a thing for white guys with bobs. He belatedly realized the guy taking the boxes out of his arms, carrying them with ease the rest of the way up the stairs.

“My name’s Orsino. Me, Curio-- he’s the tall beefy dude with the tattoos-- and Valentine, he’s the scrawny irritable blond, we live in 3-B. What’s your name? And what room am I taking this to?” Orsino turned back and smiled blindingly at Cesario, who felt a little light-headed.

“I’m in 3-C, I think. And my name’s Cesario,” he responded automatically. “Are you the RA here?” He really hoped Orsino wasn’t the RA.

“Ah- no, I think the RA hates me. His name’s Feste, he’s exceptionally chill, if you want weed or a hug he’s the first person to ask, and he plays accordion at 6 am on Saturdays. Do you have your key?” Cesario wordlessly passed the key to him, watching him shift the boxes to one arm with ease.

“Why does Feste hate you? And I don’t mind, I get up early anyway.” He stepped into the dorm room with some trepidation. The window was suspect and the floor was dirtier than Cesario would’ve preferred, but overall, everything seemed intact.

“I don’t know, really. He’s pretty weird, but he calls me a clown, like, every day, and he’ll call me at like 6 pm and just leave the line silent. It’d be unsettling if he weren’t a really good RA otherwise. So what’s your major?”

“I’m doing civil engineering and journalism, or at least that’s the plan.”

“Damn! That’s a weird mix. Do you have an idea what you want to do with that?”

“None whatsoever, it’s just what I enjoy doing. I think it’s valuable work either way-- keeping people safe, informed, provided for. I’ll probably go into the public sector, like my dad did, but I’m not married to the idea. What about you? What’re you studying?”

“That’s noble of you. I’m studying poetry. Scientists and doctors… that’s who makes life possible. But poetry? That’s what makes life worth living.”

“... right. So do you have a favorite genre or time period?” Cesario continued chatting off-handedly, taking out the sheets from its box and starting to make his bed. Out of the corner of his eye, he realized Orsino was unpacking his jackets and hanging them in the small closet.

“Hope you don’t mind me helping-- I like the romantics, but I’ve started getting really into more modern poets… I guess my own works are just, like, deeply personal emotional pieces, you know?” Cesario resisted the urge to snort, if only because it was very kind of Orsino to be helping. The way his muscles moved under his skin as he lifted and moved had nothing to do with it. “Where do you want me moving your toiletries?” Cesario turned to see Orsino rifling through the personals box, bringing up a box of tampons and turning them over in his hand.

“Up there’s fine, if you don’t mind,” Cesario responded hesitantly, gesturing towards the top shelf of the closet before returning to making the bed. “And I appreciate the help. Moving alone is always a bit of a mess, frankly. Thank you.” After a brief pause, Orsino put the toiletries up on the shelf.

“Of course! I’m always glad to. Hey, I’ve gotta run, I’ve got a shift in an hour but-- me and a couple of the other guys are hanging out tonight for a weekly movie night. Do you want to join? Free food,” he offered. Cesario was a little touched-- he’d usually struggled to make friends right off the bat, with as serious as he was about academics, so it was nice to have some of the pressure off on making friends alone.

“Yeah, I’ll drop by. You said 3-B?”

“That’s the one! Bring some movie opinions, Valentine and Curio are the worst at making decisions. See you there!” Shooting another blinding grin over his shoulder, he closed the door behind him, leaving Cesario alone. He walked to the window with a huff of breath, leaning his weight on the sill. He undid the tie holding his hair back, letting his dreadlocks swing forward.

After some hesitation, he stripped off his jacket and shirt, then removed with the relief the binder he wore over his chest. She’d started wearing the binder for about a year, planning to pose as any other young man at the prestigious school, but she’d quickly found herself dressing as a man more for her own comfort than for any other reason. Still, she didn’t like being forced into it.

Viola stretched out her neck and picked out another shirt (similar in style, but she liked how it fit her better when she wasn’t wearing a binder) and put her denim jacket back on. She hugged herself, looking around the mostly empty room, and thought about curtains and rugs and posters she could hang to feel more at home. But mostly she thought of her brother, a thousand miles away and who’d she’d never been apart from for this long.

Pressing at her watering eyes, she shook her head to clear it and pulled out her phone. Sebastian answered on the second ring, and Viola smiled despite herself.

“Hey, sister! How’s moving in treating you?” He sounded happy, Viola thought. He’d always done so well in new situations, always happy to follow the flow. She was always so jealous of how happy-go-lucky he was; she overthought everything.

“Hi, Sebastian. It’s good, it’s a little weird being somewhere so empty. I miss all your stupid shoes being everywhere.”

“Hey, my shoes are fashionable. And I miss you, too. How are the people? Have you met anyone nice yet?”

“Yeah, I have, actually,” Viola responded, her eyes going a little blank as she thought about floral gowns. Sebastian chuckled over the line. Viola came back to herself with a guilty start. “How are you doing? What’s California like? Your classes don’t start until next week, right?”

“I’m loving it here! It’s so sunny. I met this guy Antonio coming off the train, I dropped all of my shit everywhere and half of it was on the platform and half was in the train-- I was losing my mind, it was awful. And then this hot rugged white guy swoops in and grabs, like, six suitcases at once, and it turns out he’s going to the same school!” Viola laughed a little, calmness washing over her as she listened to her twin gush. “And I’m like damn! Here I am on my first day at a tiny-ass dance school across the country, and already there are hot guys throwing themselves at me. What am I supposed to do with my irresisti-OH SHIT hi Antonio-”

Viola started full-on laughing at this, tears of mirth forming as she listened to her brother stumble through a brief conversation with her new friend. “Everything alright over there, Sebastian? Do you need some help escaping all these men throwing themselves at you?” she teased, delighting in the shriek from her brother.

“Just my sister! She’s so funny, total jokester, her-- Viola, I swear to god,” he whispered down the line, obviously flustered. “Anyway, I’ve got to go, he’s gonna show me around the town. Call me when classes start, alright? I want to hear how it’s going. Love you.”

“I love you, too. Bye,” she responded. She held the silent phone against her chest for a moment, then plugged it in to charge and threw herself onto the bed. As she cuddled down for a long and well-deserved nap, she held a hopeful smile on her face until she eventually drifted off.


End file.
